


a motel in the middle of fucking nowhere

by sylveondreams



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Basically PWP, M/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveondreams/pseuds/sylveondreams
Summary: Driving across the US takes a long time, and Mark and Ethan have to stop at a motel for the night. There's only one bed. Ethan has a crush on Mark, and Mark realizes he reciprocates.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 16
Kudos: 279





	a motel in the middle of fucking nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I'm not implying anything about involved parties or their relationship, this is just fantasy. Also, **if you personally know or are related to Mark or Ethan, _please go away and don't read this._ Thank you.**

There was a lot of corn in the middle of America, Ethan was discovering as he leaned his head on the window and looked out across the expanse of field. There was a lot of corn, and there had been a lot of corn since he'd woken up and wiped the drool off his face, prompting a snarky remark from Mark. The radio was playing some pop station that crackled into classical occasionally, and it turned out that it was fucking boring to sit in the car for hours on end. Ethan would never have agreed to _drive_ with Mark if he'd known how it would be.

But it was okay, because now Mark was making a noise of annoyance at the interfering station and turning off the radio.

"How long until we stop for dinner?" The sun was going down over the corn, tinting the sky orange, and Ethan's question went out to the corn instead of to Mark.

"You could look at your phone." Mark drummed his fingers on the wheel. The sweep of the headlights was beginning to become visible on the darkening road, and there was still nothing outside but corn and the occasional stand of trees with a house nestled in it. "The next town."

Ethan made no move to check his phone. "Imagine pancakes." There was another stand of trees racing towards them on his side of the road. With it came a sign, illuminated in the rapidly darkening evening by the headlights of Mark's car.

"Twenty miles," said Mark.

"Ooh, imagine pancakes with strawberries." Ethan turned towards Mark, a grin spreading across his face. "And _whipped cream_." (It wasn't as fun to annoy him when there was an end to the day in sight, but Ethan was committed.)

Mark glanced at him for a moment. "You're going to be disappointed, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but-" Yeah. "If there's a diner?"

"Because diners with all-day breakfast are everywhere."

Ethan looked at the illuminated clock on the dashboard. 8:30.

"I'm ready to take a shower," said Mark after a moment, running a hand through his hair.

"Dirty, nasty boy," said Ethan. "Slimy." Sometimes he just said things and didn't think about them. (...Most of the time.)

Mark made a face, barely visible. It was now almost dark outside, and the headlights didn't exactly cast their light up on Mark's face. A sign appeared out of the gloom, gleaming with reflected light, and pointed them towards civilization on their left. The car slowed, blinkers clicking on. They turned, and after settling onto the identical but perpendicular road, Mark muttered, "You're slimy," like he'd been trying to come up with a better retort.

It wasn't long before they drove through a stand of trees and came out the other side seeing a modest spread of lights clustered around the road in the distance. Beyond these trees, the corn faded, replaced by houses on large lots of land, their porch lights on and windows casting light over their otherwise dark yards.

It turned out that the town was small. There was a grid of streets that stretched off the main road in both directions, but a sign directed Mark to turn towards "MOTEL", which didn't bode well for their choice in the matter.

Next to the motel was a pizza place, which was possibly better than pancakes for hyping up Ethan, making him greasy, and then making him crash later in the night.

So later they found themselves, stuffed with greasy but very good pizza, parking in the motel parking lot. Mark hopped out of the car and headed for the office, leaving Ethan to take their bags out of the trunk.

The room... was not quite what Ethan was expecting, when the door was opened and the lights were on. For starters. There was one bed. He hauled the bags in and dumped them at the foot of the bed before opening his mouth.

"One bed?"

The door closed and Mark moved past him to unzip his bag. "That's all they had available."

"That's _all_?" Ethan knew his voice was getting squeaky, but there were bigger problems than that at the moment. Namely, he had a big fucking crush on Mark Fischbach, and while he didn't know if Mark _knew_, he sure as fuck was a tease about riling Ethan up in any way he could.

"Yep." Mark straightened up, underwear, toothbrush, and toothpaste in the crook of his arm. "Wifi's on the nightstand." And the bathroom door closed behind him, and Ethan sat down on the bed.

Well, fuck.

The shower turned on, barely muffled by the bathroom wall. Ethan fell back with a loud _whuff_ and rolled over to look at the nightstand.

When Mark came out of the bathroom, the same shirt he'd been wearing before thrown back on over boxers, Ethan was splayed out on the bed, his face partway buried in the duvet and his phone in his hands.

"Aah, your dick," said Ethan into the duvet, and turned off his phone.

"You don't have to look at it," said Mark, dropping his things back into his bag and shooing Ethan off half of the bed.

"Your massive dong." This in a shitty French accent, followed by Ethan rolling off the bed and whacking his shin on the ground. "Fuck."

Mark picked up the covers and sat down in bed, looking perfectly fucking cozy on his phone as he said, "Don't jack off in the shower. I can definitely hear you."

Ethan did not blush at this, and proved it by bending down at the foot of the bed to hastily grab his things and scurrying into the bathroom.

The shower was not _un_pleasant, and Ethan found himself habitually with a hand on his cock before he remembered and reached to occupy his hands with incredibly slippery soap instead. Finally, he turned off the water, toweled off, and realized he was also going to be wearing boxers in bed. How was it that two grown men didn't have one pair of pjorts between them?

"Aah, your dick," said Mark in an incredibly bad impression of Ethan's voice when Ethan emerged from the bathroom.

"Fuck you." Ethan stuffed his things in his bag, turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and turned off the overhead light.

Mark slid down into bed and put his phone on the small desk on his side of the bed. Ethan crawled into bed, resisted the sudden urge to kiss Mark on the forehead, and turned off the light.

"G'night." Rustling from the other side of the bed.

"Night, Mark." Ethan closed his eyes, and the legacy of his earlier pizza knocked him the fuck out.

In the morning, Ethan woke up, yawned, and then remembered he was in bed with Mark, who tended to wake up earlier. Ethan rolled onto his side and found Mark propped up on an elbow, watching him.

"Morning," he said, suddenly not sleepy anymore. "'S not creepy at all."

"Sorry," said Mark, and turned onto his back. "G'morning."

Ethan reached out with a foot to drag his toes up the side of Mark's shin and watched Mark shiver throughout his entire body, pulling his leg away. But he didn't say anything, instead just turning his head to look at Ethan.

"What?"

"Can you promise not to be mad at me if I tell you something?"

Ethan groaned and put his hands over his face. "Don't tell me I woke you up with a wet dream or something."

"No," said Mark, and rolled back onto his side to face Ethan. "I was watching you sleep."

"Yeah, I saw."

"This is a really fucking bad time for it, but I-" Mark took a deep breath. "You're fucking annoying, but you're also fucking cute, and I didn't realize until now, but I want to kiss you and I'm okay with it?"

Ethan blinked. "Really?" Was this a dream? So Mark didn't get the wrong idea and retreat, Ethan quickly tacked on a "Please tell me I'm not dreaming."

"Really."

There was an awkward moment while Ethan shuffled towards Mark, on his side, in bed, and then promptly smacked their noses together.

"Ow."

Ethan took advantage of Mark's partially open mouth and kissed him, bringing the hand that wasn't trapped underneath him up to rest in the messy bed hair at the back of Mark's head. When Mark got his shit together and kissed back, it was enthusiastic and sloppy, and his hand came to rest on Ethan's back.

After a moment, they broke apart to breathe, and to stare at each other wondering what this meant. Their noses were safe upon second contact, and Mark's hand on Ethan's back pressed him flush against Mark's body. Ethan pushed Mark with his hip, and when that didn't work he drew apart slightly to say, "Get on your back."

Mark held Ethan tighter to him for a moment and rolled them both over so that Ethan was on top of him, gasping in surprise and still holding the back of Mark's head, the sheets bunched unevenly over his back.

"Oh," said Ethan into Mark's mouth, and settled into a more comfortable position on top of him. "I wasn't-"

Mark laughed, his eyes smiling closer to Ethan's than ever before, almost making him go cross-eyed. His hand shifted on Ethan's back.

"Mark," Ethan said, immediately forgot what he was going to say, and tried to hide it by catching Mark's lips again. The contact kindled a warmth in his chest like the burn of liquor. His hand loosely resting on Mark's shoulder curled, bunching up the wrinkled fabric of his shirt and pressing into the solid flesh beneath, and his hand in his hair tightened around some of the longer strands, accidentally tugging.

Mark gasped at this, and his other hand came up to also rest on Ethan's back. "Fuck," he muttered, a warm breath of a word.

"Fuck," Ethan agreed, and dipped down to catch Mark's lower lip in his teeth, prompting a hoped-for groan.

"I'm discovering things," said Mark after a moment. Ethan pulled back to regard him, his warm brown eyes still a little sleepy, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Hmm?" Ethan was also discovering things, but they probably weren't the same.

"I liked us waking up in the same bed. I like kissing you. I'm into you like - not like a friend. I think I've had a crush on you for a while?"

_Too much,_ said Ethan's brain, _deflect,_ and his mouth said, "Who wouldn't?" He laughed nervously, looking down at Mark's chest. All of a sudden the nerves that should have struck him earlier were coming to kick at him like a bunch of kids at a patch of mushrooms. "Me too? I mean, you're fucking hot, dude," (This was in a silly voice to avoid thinking too much about it) "of course I thought about - y'know - a lot?" The warmth in his chest was now burning with sudden embarrassment.

"You did?" Mark tried to come up to catch Ethan and kiss him again, but the hand in his hair kept him down. A whimper escaped his lips, followed by a "Fuck."

Ethan had never had the occasion to pull Mark's hair, and the idea that this was the sound he would have made burnt away the embarrassment as quickly as it had come. Sometimes being horny killed all other moods. So he bent down and kissed Mark, not on the lips but sloppily on his jaw, feeling his way down to Mark's pulse.

Ethan bit down hard. Mark actually moaned, body moving under Ethan's, fingertips pressing into his back. That was fucking hot. If he'd known what Mark sounded like before, he'd probably have chafed his dick jacking off to it.

He bit again, just to hear it again, and Mark obliged.

"I hate how hot you are," said Ethan. "You're an asshole."

"Ethan," said Mark, and the _plea_ made Ethan dizzy with how much blood rushed to his dick.

"Fuck," replied Ethan intelligently, and moved back up to kiss Mark silly.

This time when they came apart again, Mark said, "I'll have to drive like this." He moved again, and one of Ethan's legs slipped down between Mark's. In this position, Ethan could clearly feel Mark hard against his hip.

"You don't have to." Ethan mentally kicked himself for the worst offer for a handjob ever. In his defense, Mark had set it up badly.

"You want me to take another shower?"

"I'm offering to jerk you off, Mark." Ethan couldn't help the tinge of annoyance in his voice, but Mark fucking knew what he'd meant.

"Oh. Yeah." Mark rubbed his hand gently on Ethan's back, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Please."

It was very hard to believe that this was happening, that Ethan was actually reaching a hand down into Mark's boxers, feeling him hot and aroused against his fingers, brushing against the coarse curly hair that _yeah_, he'd seen before, but he'd never thought he'd be _touching_.

Mark exhaled shakily. "Fuck. Move."

Ethan moved. He moved his hand out of Mark's underwear, moved his legs, and resettled to straddle Mark, successfully positioning his cock right against Mark's, albeit through two layers of fabric.

"You're fucking killing me, Ethan." Mark's voice was breathy and low, its warmth tickling Ethan's face.

Ethan put his hand back where it had been, encountered fabric, and wrestled Mark's boxers just far enough down his thighs.

"Ethan," Mark said again, this time half a whine.

"_Wait_ a second," said Ethan, and cupped his hand around Mark's cock.

"Fuck," groaned Mark, and tried to surge up again to kiss Ethan. Ethan's fingers tightened automatically around the hair they were locked in, yanking Mark back towards the bed. A shaky moan escaped Mark's lips, and his eyes fluttered closed.

Ethan leaned down to press his face against Mark's, lips just barely brushing his, and shifted his hand to hold Mark's cock against his own. The gentle pressure reminded him of his own need, ignored in favor of Mark's, and he bucked his hips, grinding their dicks together.

Mark made a noise low in his throat and dug his nails into Ethan's back through his shirt. Fuck, that felt good. "Fuck, Mark."

"Fuck you," Mark growled. His body was hot under Ethan's. "Please. Ethan."

"Ah," said Ethan, suddenly remembering, and pulled back again to bring his hand up and spit into it.

"That's disgusting," said Mark, but readily parted his lips again when Ethan came down again to kiss him.

"Shh." Ethan got his hand down between them again and wrapped it around Mark's cock, spreading comparatively cool saliva against hot skin. Mark hummed into his lips. Ethan tried to pull back a little to say, "You good?" but Mark chased him, hooking Ethan's lip with his teeth and mostly fucking up the question. The little nip of pain shot lightning through Ethan.

"Yeah," muttered Mark in a breath. "Tease."

"Impatient." Ethan moved his hand then, starting with slow strokes, and immediately Mark melted further into his kiss, somehow making it even sloppier than before. For a long moment, there wasn't any sound other than wet noises, loud breathing, and Ethan's heart in his ears. His cock throbbed.

Then Mark's hips bucked up, fucking into Ethan's hand. He broke apart from Ethan to breathe heavily, eyes still closed and drooling mouth still open. Ethan watched Mark with rapt attention, almost forgetting the awkward angle he was moving his hand at. Mark moaned loud and obscene, like he didn't care who heard. He fucked into Ethan's hand again, and again, and suddenly he was coming, his mouth open in a noiseless moan and his body tense. He shuddered under Ethan. Fuck, he was pretty. Ethan could barely even think about how fucked up their shirts were going to be.

After a while, and no time at all, Mark's breathing returned in a rush, his body totally relaxing again. Ethan took his dirtied hand away and slid it up under Mark's shirt, waiting for his eyes to open.

Mark's stomach was mostly smooth but for the bumps of his scars, and his chest vibrated under Ethan's fingers when he spoke, his voice low. "Are you going to jerk off?"

"Yeah," said Ethan. "On you, if that's okay."

Mark's brown eyes blinked open, and Ethan sat up to shove his boxers down just to the top of his thighs, finally freeing his cock.

Mark shoved the pillow behind his head under his head and set a hand on Ethan's thigh, fingers flicking under his boxers. "Closer?"

Ethan shuffled a little closer on his knees, sitting down again on Mark's lower stomach, his ass touching the tip of Mark's dick.

Mark hummed. "Can you come on my face?" he asked, hesitatingly, as if he was afraid Ethan wouldn't want to do that for some reason.

Ethan, of course, was very interested in the sudden image in his head, and shuffled a little closer still, Mark's wet shirt bunching up between his legs. Mark's hands gently grabbed his ass, squeezing and making him squirm, just a little bit.

"You're so fucking pretty, Mark," said Ethan, and when he wrapped his hand around his own cock he immediately felt the simmering flame in his chest leap up again. "You're hot and I don't think you even notice you're flirting with me sometimes." Then, because Mark was smiling in a way that indicated he might notice, actually, he added, "And you're an asshole."

Ethan did not have very much self-control. Mark's slightly hazy smile and relaxed body and swollen lips and messed-up hair were a recipe for him to start fast and finish fast. So he started fast, trying to keep his eyes open to watch Mark. His mouth lolled open, letting out small noises as he worked himself, cracked-open eyes locked with Mark's.

"Fuck," said Mark under his breath.

Ethan pried open his eyes, which had closed while he wasn't paying attention, and saw the way Mark was looking at him. The noises that spilled out of his mouth melted together into a moan. Mark squeezed his ass again. Ethan's eyes flickered shut, his head tilting down to rest his open jaw against his chest. His thighs shook. He was right on the edge, teetering with every little sound that crowded out from his mouth.

Mark made a quiet, pleased noise, and that was enough to send Ethan over. His head tipped back to let a loud moan burst from his throat. His body spasmed, and his mind went blank.

When he opened his eyes, breathing heavily, Ethan saw Mark still watching him, his face and hair streaked with cum. Fuck, that was hot.

"Fuck. You're-"

"I don't know how I didn't realize I wanted this until now," said Mark, ignoring the fact that Ethan was trying to tell him he was hot.

"Can I take a picture?"

"To masturbate to?" Mark cracked a smile.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Ethan leaned over to the bedside table to grab his phone and flick open the camera. The room's mostly-closed blackout curtains made the image grainy, but Ethan's shutter clicked and he had a souvenir. "Thanks." He toppled off of Mark and laid on the bed next to him, not bothering to put his dick away.

"I'm going to take a shower," said Mark after a moment, and started to get up.

"Kiss me first." Even though he'd said it, Ethan had the decency to be surprised when Mark leaned down to actually do it.

"We'll have to tip the housekeepers well," said Mark, actually getting up, and bent down to take more clean clothes out of his bag.

"Yeah. Too much cum."

There was an affirmative laugh, and the bathroom door closed behind Mark.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [sylveondreams](https://sylveondreams.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
